


Bad Blood

by bubblyNightmare



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Slytherin! Karkat, karkat vantas is trigger happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 22:46:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9208340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblyNightmare/pseuds/bubblyNightmare
Summary: Karkat Vantas is a mudblood with big ambitionssaved as Karkat Vantas Is A Slytherin And You Can Fucking Fight Me in my google drive





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes, i’m just a poor writer that likes homestuck and following through stupid half formed ideas

Deep breaths. Focus. You close your eyes and run. You don’t hit anything. You open your eyes and take a look around you. You aren’t that surprised to find a normal train station bustling with people in pointy hats. This is it. The most important day of your entire life. As you wait for the train to arrive, you reach for the bit of parchment inside your left pocket. 

You haven’t let go of your Hogwarts letter since you got it a few months ago but it hasn’t frayed yet. Must be the magic keeping it intact. Magic. God you still can’t believe it. You’re not a freak of nature, or a mutant doomed to be found by the government and put down. You’re not an alien fallen from a meteor in the sky or what other bullshit you might have concocted in your earlier years. You, Karkat Vantas, are completely normal… for a wizard. 

Of course you are aware of the bias against people like you, born in normal (muggle?) families. You’ve made a few precautions so you’re not harassed before even setting foot into the castle. With casual robes already on, shrunk baggage inside your message bag, and a drive to your steps, you could easily be mistaken for a pureblood kid. This camouflage is your protection, even if only temporarily. 

And then there’s another matter. Even after reading all the books your father could afford, you still don’t know anything about how the sorting is done. If you are to engage with anyone with higher blood than you until then, the plan is to subtly say you don’t give a fuck and still seem like someone who know’s what he’s talking about. Controlling your temper is going to be hard, but apparently it’s improper to curse out people in wizard society with words that aren’t actual blood-curling curses. 

But all those things have to wait, because the train is here and you want to get a good cart and lock it before any snotty kid comes around trying to get chummy. You need space to train some spells. You’re suddenly glad you asked that store clerk to shrink your stuff, as you see many first years like yourself killing each other to fit their trunks in the train and get in while olders students laugh and don’t lift even a finger to help.

You finally break free from the mob and find a free cart. You lock it and sit down on the cushioned train seat. God this is exhausting. Or should you say Merlin? If you’re to say the name of a legendary being that may or may not have existed, you think it’s better to do it in the wizard way. At least they don’t claim he created magic as we know it or anything stupid like that. You sigh again. Now is not the time to be pondering shit like that. 

You take out your wand. What did that creepy old man say to you before? You know it has dragon (fucking dragons are a thing in this world apparently) heartstrings, fir wood, and an affinity for defensive spells. You run your fingers over your brand new wand, trying to measure its length. You’ve always been absolute shit at converting inches to centimeters and are no better now. This isn’t an important thing to know though. The wand is great but if you don’t know any spells it’s as good as any other useless stick. It’s time to practice.

Since you’ve learned about the laws regarding wand misuse, your father has been taking you to Diagon Alley every weekend so you’re not traced when training basic spells. You know that law is just another restriction placed upon muggle-borns like yourself, even though it’s advertised as something all wizard children should follow. You study all the first year books plus some handy household charms. Useful things until you learn how to properly master your magic for more battle focused curses. You frown as you try to remember the proper pronunciation for the smokescreen spell, when the door bursts open as if you never locked it. 

A boy a bit taller than you comes in and sits down across your seat. His luggage is still in the corridor but it doesn’t look like he cares about it at all. He’s wearing a pair of nerdy reading glasses and this big shit eating grin that you’d love to punch. His hair has probably never seen a brush in its life, and before you know it you’ve moved on from staring at him in utter confusion to frowning even harder than before, yet his delight in being with you hasn’t diminished in the slightest. His grin is devilish and persistent and he knows you hate him at first sight and he doesn’t care at all. He dares to wave a hand in greeting and oh god he’s starting to speak to you

“Hi, I’m John Egbert! Since everybody I know are bloody traitors that ditched me in my first day at school, you’re now my new best friend! What’s your name?”

You give him a look of pure disgust. He keeps looking at you expectantly. You can tell he will not back down. He looks stupid but dangerous at the same time and you don’t know why. This whole thing is fucking stupid. After making sure your rage levels won’t interfere with your voice volume you rasp out

“It’s Karkat Vantas and you’re a presumptuous bastard if you think you can just tell me what to do. I don’t wANT TO BE YOUR FUCKING FRIEND. WHY THE FUCK DID YOU BREAK INTO MY CART. No. Stop. Don’t answer me. I don’t want to involve myself in yOUR STUPID SHIT. GO MAKE AMENDS WITH YOUR FRIENDS LIKE A NORMAL FUCKING PERSON INSTEAD OF USING OTHERS IN YOUR PETTY POWER PLAYS YOU BLIGERING SHITSPONGE.”

Oh god damnit. At least seventy percent of your speech was ear splitting loud, your voice gave up a few times and the door is still open so anyone could’ve walked in. Shit there _ are _ people looking in, mostly older students drawn by your extreme use of the F-word. John Egbert is still there in front of you, a look of utter fascination in his eyes. Apparently you have not been able to drive him away. There are murmurs buzzing around you, but you’re still breathless from your little tirade. You used to make much longer ones before your father made daily meditations a part of your routine, so you are a little rusty. 

You’re still clenching your fist tight around your wand and you raise it until it’s point blank against John’s face. You watch with satisfaction as his eyes boggle, clearly surprised. Did he think you were all bark and no bite? Hah. It still is a first year spell, but he is also a first year and you don’t think he was very worried about learning spells before coming to Hogwarts. You hear the murmurs around you turn into full blown shouts of danger and maybe something about a Prefect but you don’t hear it behind the rush of blood to your head. Your voice is hoarse but even as you say

  
“ _ Diffindo _ ”


End file.
